


anything plain can be lovely

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Series: tumblr "drabbles" [10]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of), Adulthood, Birthday Spanking, Growing Up Together, M/M, Schmoop, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sees Louis - like, <i>really</i> sees Louis - again for the first time in his mid-thirties. (a grew-up-together AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	anything plain can be lovely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [underwaternow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/gifts).



> this is molly's fault and also for molly. thanks molly for the encouragement!
> 
> title from "falling for the first time" by the barenaked ladies because "something great" felt a little too predictable.

Harry steps on the flat metal blade of his hoe to hold it steady, and leans against the handle. He doesn't fall down, but only because he used to practise this move back when he was trying to impress cute classmates in the gardening club he was in, way back in uni. There's activity bustling over in the old Tomlinson house, more than he's seen since the last time all the girls - women, now - and Louis were in town last Christmas. He can't quite tell what's going on right now, but Jay is sat in the doorway in her chair, one hand shading her eyes and there's a beat-up old car in the drive.

And then Louis steps out of the car. He looks good - hair clipped short, and with a bit of dismay, Harry notes that it doesn't look like the hairline has receded at _all_ since the last time Harry got a good look at him. Harry can't identify. Louis's laugh lines are deeper, though, and he's got circles under his eyes. Harry leans harder against his hoe, trying to get a better look, when Louis glances up and his eyes widen.

"Harry!" he says, sounding surprised - and oh, his voice is as lovely as ever - and Harry topples over into the fresh patch of dirt where he's just put his tomatoes.

+++

It's not an interesting story, particularly. Or at least that's how Harry introduced it to Niall the first time the two of them got drunk together at a pub after work hours:

Boy grows up next door to his best friend, who he likes a lot and then, eventually, maybe loves a lot, too. Their mums eventually get a gate put into the fence between their yards. They get into a lot of mischief, to the point where, whenever anything goes awry on the street, they're the ones who get blamed - usually, with just cause. They talk often about how they'll get houses next door to each other when they grow up, too. When they fall in love, on darkened football pitches and in Louis's first rust-trap of a car, the talk turns to sharing a house of their own.

Louis repeats a year of sixth form but still goes off to uni before Harry and comes back on his break, eyes gleaming and dreaming of seeing the world. They have sex for the first time on Louis's nineteenth birthday, holding hands, Louis staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that have been on Harry's ceiling since they put them up on Harry's seventh birthday. Then Harry goes off to uni, a different one from Louis's, and further from home. He finds he loves photography, different than but equal to his love for Louis, and when Louis gets an internship in _New York_ after uni, Harry doesn't begrudge him the experience. 

They don't break up so much as grow apart, Skype calls shortening and then missed entirely as Louis gets busier with his work and Harry makes friends with people who live a little bit closer to him until, eventually, it just becomes easier to move on. 

Niall had stared at Harry the first time Harry told him the story, and then planted a sloppy smooch to Harry's cheek. "Love always finds a way," he'd said, and Harry had laughed. He hadn't been sure what else to do.

+++

Harry isn't still stuck on Louis. He _isn't_. He'd seen Louis last Christmas, and the one before that, and the one before that; their families still celebrate together. They've talked; they're still friends. Still, Harry is just totally surprised to see Louis walking across his mum's garden and pushing the gate open, laughter screwing up the circles under his eyes, transforming them to something - lighter, perhaps. "Good to see you've still got the same firm grasp on gravity," he says, and extends a hand to help Harry up.

Harry takes it. Louis's palm is calloused and dry and still fits in Harry's like they're seventeen and nineteen again, instead of thirty-four and thirty-six. "You bring out the best in me," Harry jokes, a throwback to when they used to joke that Harry was even clumsier around Louis, except for during sex. 

Louis's smile doesn't dim. "Always have," he says, hauling Harry up and dusting him off briskly for good measure. Harry's tomato plants are a bit squashed, and Louis has rubbed the dirt into his sleeve more than getting it off, but he can't quite bring himself to mind, not when Louis is stood, inexplicably, right in front of him, smiling up at him, laugh lines deeper than ever. 

"We should catch up," Harry blurts. He toes around until his foot contracts the hoe, and steps on it, making the shaft swing up. He manages to catch it. He is _so_ suave. "Like, properly."

"Cask Corner still open?" Louis asks, and Harry nods - it is, though he hasn't been there in years. "Is ten too late? I'd do earlier, but - I've other things to do first."

"Ten's fine," Harry says. He's got a conference call early-ish in the morning with Niall and their publisher, but if Louis'd said he wanted to go out at half one in the morning, that would have been fine, too. He glances over at Louis's car. "Want me to drive?"

"It's nice out today," says Louis. "We could walk."

+++

So they walk to the pub together - Harry leans against the mailbox out front like it's 2008 again and he's waiting for Louis to _finally_ get ready so they can go to school together, and Louis comes banging out of his mum's front door at eight past. Not that Harry's counting.

They're quiet on the walk over, mostly. Harry isn't sure what to say; this is the most time he's had alone with Louis since the Christmas right after Harry'd broken up with Zayn. He hadn't been that torn up about it - he'd liked Zayn well enough, but it hadn't been _electric_ in the way that either of them wanted - but Louis had dragged Harry out into the freezing air and sat him on the porch swing and they'd had a bit of a cuddle, swapping swallows of wine straight from the bottle and laughing at the way they could see their breath on the air. 

"This place hasn't changed at all," Louis says, finally, looking at the way the streetlight on the corner is flickering, the way Old Mrs Andersen's got her roses growing up over her white picket fence.

"Sure it has," Harry says. "Doubt any rapscallion teenagers have peed in those roses since our reign of terror." 

"We'll have to change that on our way back," Louis says, wickedly, and Harry can't help but laugh.

"Obviously," he says, and then - "But Lou... I hate to break it to you, but like... we're not teenagers anymore."

Louis wheels around and glares at Harry. The shadows cast on his face from the streetlamp are sharp, and they highlight the way he's aged, lately. Harry thinks he looks beautiful. "How _very_ dare you," Louis says, indignantly, pushing playfully at Harry's shoulder. "Always a teenager at heart, Styles, that's what I say."

The pub hasn't changed since the last time he and Louis came here, either, except there's now an electric dart board in the corner and the barmaid is new. "The same?" Louis asks.

Harry can't remember what his order used to be, when it comes down to it - it's curious what memories stay (the feel of Louis's calloused hand on his thigh, pressing his legs further apart) and what don't (what, precisely, they said when they decided to move on). "Sure," he says. There's nothing he's diametrically opposed to.

Turns out his order used to be Campari and soda, and that Louis's order now is a pint of dark. "Still like the old double vodka lemonade," Louis says, when he makes his way back to their sticky table, drinks in hand. "But when I turned thirty I figured I ought to cut down on the harder liquors."

"What's that you said on the walk over here?" Harry asks, widening his eyes purposefully. "Always a teenager at heart?"

"Hey," Louis says, warningly, and he takes a large, defiant swallow of Harry's drink, making a face before passing it over, but his eyes shine with respect and Harry just grins back at him.

"So you're... living here full-time now?" Louis says, eventually. "Thought it was just holidays."

"Nah," says Harry. "I mean - I told you about my job, right?"

"Going about the country taking photos," Louis says, leaning confidently back in his chair. "And then making coffee-table books with them."

"That's basically it, yeah," Harry says. He and Niall go around - Harry takes photos of interesting people and Niall writes about them and then they make books about it. It's not limited to the UK; they once went to Appalachia in the states, and they've been to Spain a few times, and there's talk about them contributing to the next book about the things people around the world eat, maybe going somewhere in Asia or Africa, which would be _sick -_ but Louis has got the gist of it. "Anyway, mum likes going where it's warm from, like, January through May, and Gem's got her big important job in London, so I stay here for most of that time, unless I've got to go shoot somewhere for a week or two. I suppose you could say it's my home base, though, yeah."

"Nice," Louis says. He takes a long sip of his beer, and then says, "You know how mum had that fall of hers?"

"Yeah," Harry says. He'd gone over to Jay's a couple of times when she called him up, to help her around the house whenever he could, in between editing photos on his computer and working on his latest project, which is turning their basement into a darkroom. "How's she doing, then? Haven't heard from her in a week or so."

"I'm between shows at the moment," Louis says, studying the fingerprint smudges on his glass. "So I came to help her out a bit."

"That's nice," says Harry, and they're quiet for a little bit.

"Remember that time we got kicked out of here?" Louis asks, suddenly, leaning forward in his chair.

"Because you dared me to come in just wearing lady's lingerie?" Harry asks, chuckling all little. "Yeah, I do."

"Clearly you do not, because as I recall, you were _begging_ me to tell you to do it," Louis laughs. 

"Didn't realize you'd got _see-through_ pants, did I?" Harry says, but he's laughing harder, too, and then they're comparing notes from when they grew up.

It starts off innocuously enough - "Remember when we tried to sneak in here for a drink when we were fifteen?"

" _You_ were fifteen, Lou, I was _thirteen_!"

"No, wait, you were twelve, it was before your birthday, wasn't it?"

"Like that makes it any better, _Lewis_ , come on." 

\- but then, somewhere around their third drinks, the tone shifts: "Remember when Sarah threw that house party right before you started sixth form?"

"Like I could forget," Harry says, and he's quiet for a moment before: "That was the first night we kissed, wasn't it?"

"And Liam fell face-first into that inflatable wading pool she was keeping all the drinks in."

Harry doesn't remember that part as much; Louis'd stumbled away to get them more drinks and he was mostly standing, back to the banister on the staircase, hand pressed to his tingling lips. "And we walked in on Cher snogging Perrie in the loo."

"Weren't we going there to have a snog ourselves?" Louis asks, after a beat.

Harry nods, laughing a little. "We just kind of left after that, didn't we?"

"Yeah," Louis says, smiling faintly. Harry reaches for his glass. His fingers bump against Louis's, and his gaze darts up to Louis's face. Louis looks surprised, and suddenly very exhausted. "I'm knackered," he says. "Way past my bedtime."

"Glamorous director like you, I'm surprised you have a bedtime," Harry says, and Louis grins at him.

"You'd be surprised by a lot, then," he says, and drains the rest of his pint, then pushes back from the table. "Walk me home, Haz?"

Harry takes the last swallow of his own drink and stands. "With pleasure."

Their hands bump the entire way home.

+++

It becomes a routine, going out after Harry's finished puttering about his garden, or his growing darkroom, or reading through what Niall's written about their latest trip, or editing photos, and after Jay goes to bed every night. It's not always to the pub, but it usually is. Sometimes they walk to the 24-hour kebab place and once, they take Harry's car to the cinema to see the latest Marvel movie.

On a really nice night, about two weeks after Louis got into town, they walk to the nearest playground. It's far enough along in May that they don't need their jackets, and they sit on swings next to each other. Harry wraps his hand around the chain on Louis's swing and tugs him close. They haven't talked about their relationship, and how it ended, specifically, but they've talked about things they did in their relationship. It feels like they're dancing close to Something again, maybe. Harry doesn't mind; he's thirty-four and he hasn't dated in months, hasn't dated seriously in over a year and a half. More importantly, though, it feels like he and Louis never lost touch - they're best mates again. Still. Forever.

Louis's hand comes up, brushing against Harry's arm as he reaches over to grab Harry's swing chain and pull them even closer, till he can wrap his hand around both their chains, so Harry does the same. Their hips bump, and Harry puts his legs down to keep it that way. 

"Remember how when we were kids, we used to talk about living next door always?" he asks Louis, leaning his head against the chain of the swing. The great thing about sitting is that he probably won't fall down, like he did when he leaned against the hoe. Probably. 

"Take the fence down between our houses entirely and have one huge yard for our pets and kids?" Louis says. He tilts his head over, too, but he misses the chain and just leans it against Harry's shoulder. "That was nice to talk about."

"This feels kind of like that," Harry confesses. Emotions have been swelling up inside him for two weeks now, growing and expanding till it feels like they could fit every inch of that joined-up yard. "You being here, now."

"Mum's getting better," Louis says, quietly. "Which is good, I'm glad that she's starting to walk around again, but."

Harry's heart drops in his chest. "I don't want to miss you again," he blurts, twisting a bit so that he can catch, and hold, Louis's gaze.

"Don't wanna miss you either, Haz," Louis says. The corners of his mouth twist a little. He's quiet for a very long, pregnant moment, and then he says: "I've been missing you for years."

"Yknow," Harry says, laughing ruefully. It feels a little like crying. "You were my childhood sweetheart, but I'm pretty sure you were also the love of my life."

Louis blinks rapidly; Harry can only just make out the motion in the dark. There are streetlights, but they're on the edge of the park and at this part of the playground, everything is smudged in shadow. Louis's fluttering eyelashes are just dark blurs against his cheeks, but his eyes glisten in the scant light between blinks, bright and damp. "I know you're mine," he says, roughly, and Harry's so surprised that he lets go of the swing, the movement so sudden and jerky that his chain pulls free of Louis's hand and he swings away, sideways.

When it swings back, Louis reaches out and grabs Harry's hand. "I'm - sorry if that was terribly sudden," he says, holding on tight to Harry's hand. Harry's swing sways gently, but he doesn't move any farther away. "I've been thinking about it a lot since I got back."

"Want to try again?" Harry asks, heart thudding in his chest.

"No," says Louis, and his grip on Harry's hand tightens, almost pre-emptively. "Feels kind of like we never stopped. I want to... keep on."

"Your mum's getting better," Harry says, dumbly. "You'll go back to London."

"We'll figure something out," Louis says. "Even if we have to Skype - I'm older now; I've got a routine, it won't - it won't be like before."

"Teenager at heart," Harry says, but he manages a teasing lilt to his voice. "And you've got a routine?"

"Teenager at heart," Louis says. "But I've still got to pay the bills. To my landlord, and utilities. And heart."

Harry laughs. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say," he tells Louis, and he pushes up off his swing, letting it hit him in the legs. 

"Fuck you, it was wildly romantic," says Louis, indignantly.

"I'll show you wildly romantic," says Harry, and he tugs Louis up and flush against his chest. It's a daring move, considering that his clumsiness is out in full force now that Louis is back in town, but he manages to pull it off excellently. He celebrates by threading his fingers through the short hairs at the base of Louis's head and using the grip to tilt Louis's face up, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss. 

Louis tastes of curry and mouthwash, but underneath it all, he tastes _familiar_ like Harry's childhood and adolescence and best mate all rolled up in one, and he licks into Louis's mouth to chase the flavour. Louis gasps, bringing his hands up to Harry's waist and digging his fingers in, craning up into Harry's mouth. It's slick, and warm, and soft – and then Louis bites down sharp on Harry's lower lip, and it's all he can do not to push Louis against the A-frame of the swingset and shove a hand down Louis's pants then and there.

"We should probably not - playground," Harry says, once Louis breaks away to catch his breath, and Louis nods, taking Harry's hand firmly in his own. 

"Your place," says Louis, decisively. "Mum's asleep."

Somehow they make it back to Harry's, all the way up the stairs to his childhood room and onto his childhood bed, stopping only twice, to snog against the light at the end of the street and then again while Harry is fumbling his keys out to unlock his door.

"Feels familiar," Louis says, bouncing on the bed a little, looking around the room. It's mostly the same as it was when they were kids; Harry still sleeps here when he's in town, but he's put more energy into updating his darkroom than his bedroom. He does something with his posture, stretching his hands out behind to prop himself up, chest jutting forward proudly, and Harry drops his keys on the floor and toes off his shoes. 

"So gorgeous," he murmurs. He'd love to photograph Louis like this, cheeks flushed bright and chest heaving, dick pressing up against the front of his trackies, put Louis in a book and keep him forever. " _Louis_."

"C'mere, then," Louis says, low and intense. "Let me get my hands on you."

Harry tugs off his t-shirt as he walks over, and undoes the snap on his jeans shorts, but he doesn't try to kick them off; doesn't want to trip. He presses against Louis's front, lowering him back down onto the bed. He pushes a hand up Louis's shirt until he can pinch one of his nipples, kissing him all the while. 

Louis gasps into his mouth, and then puts a hand up on Harry's chest, pushing him up long enough to say, "Want to see you naked."

"I can do that," Harry says, grinning, and he shoves his bottoms off all the way and stands on his knees in front of Louis. He knows he looks good; he's got a lot better about working out since they were teenagers, and Louis hasn't seen the way Harry's hard cock juts out when he's like this in _years_.

Predictably, Louis swallows hard.

"Your turn," Harry says, trying to bite down on a smirk.

"Oh hush, you," says Louis, laughing a little as he sits up and presses a quick, closemouthed kiss to Harry's lips. "I see that smirk of yours."

"You love it," Harry says, confidently, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"God help me, I do," he says, and he stands up long enough to shove his trackies and boxers off and pull off his t-shirt.

At thirty-six, Louis is the same mishmash of soft and hard that he was as a teenager - toned, with a bit of a belly and soft thighs and upper arms. He's not as golden as he used to be, but he looks phenomenal. His cock is flushed darker than Harry remembers, and there's a smudge of precome smeared at the tip.

Harry's mouth waters.

"Wanna get my mouth on you," he tells Louis, glancing up at him because Louis is still stood next to the bed.

"That can be arranged," Louis says, grinning at Harry. He climbs back up on the bed and sprawls out on his back, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. "Be my guest."

"With pleasure," Harry says, and he scratches at Louis's thighs a little with the blunt tips of his nails and sucks one of Louis's nipples into his mouth, worrying at it with his teeth until it pebbles up, hard under his tongue. 

"Not my cock, precisely," Louis says, but his voice is tight and high in a way that Harry remembers from twelve years ago, somehow vividly, still. 

"Never were a patient one, were you?" Harry says, but he sucks kisses down Louis's stomach until his chin bumps against Louis's cock. 

"That's more like it," Louis says, as Harry licks a fat, wet stripe up the thick vein on the underside of Louis's cock, so Harry pinches his thigh, hard, grinning to himself as Louis's hips cant upward and his cock bumps solidly against his mouth.

It's good to know that he still remembers Louis's body like this.

He opens his mouth and rests his tongue against the head of Louis's cock and waits, steadily, until Louis huffs out a little impatient breath and rolls his hips up again, pushing his cockhead, even damper with precome, into Harry's slack mouth. 

Harry sucks cock the way he eats - tongue first - and it always makes for really wet, sloppy blowjobs where spit gets all over his mouth and chin. He loves making it messy, and it seems that Louis still really loves it when Harry gets messy over him, given the way he starts thrusting, shallowly, into Harry's mouth, forcing Harry to flatten his tongue and keep his throat loose. He works a hand up between Louis's thighs, and Louis lets his legs fall open, but instead of reaching back like Louis probably expects, Harry works his hand up until he's cradling Louis's sac, gently massaging at it with his fingertips, feeling the way it tightens under his touch until Louis is gasping and clearly trying his hardest not to thrust too deeply into Harry's mouth.

Harry just lets himself smile into the blowjob, sucks hard, and _hums_ until Louis is shooting off across his tongue. He swallows the first spurts, and then pulls off so the last one falls partly across his lips.

"Missed that," Louis says, voice rough, as he comes down, and he opens his eyes. They widen immediately, once he sees the blurt of come on Harry's lips, so Harry winks and licks his lips slowly, catching every last drop, and then he leans in to kiss Louis. Louis sighs happily as Harry brushes their lips together, and Harry grins and licks into Louis's mouth, carefully feeding him that last taste of his own come, letting Louis lick it off his tongue.

"Missed _you_ ," Harry murmurs, once Louis pulls back and swallows, sated. 

Louis smiles up at him. "C'mere, you," he says, swatting at Harry's bum to move him in position. "Let me get my hand on you."

Harry freezes at the feeling of Louis's palm against his arse, though, trying his best not to gasp, but Louis's eyes narrow anyway.

"I'd forgot," he murmurs, and his smile morphs into a grin - a feral one. He examines his own hand, long enough for Harry to see precisely what he's doing, and then strokes it, open-palmed and gentle, down Harry's back. "I used to give you birthday spankings." His hand bumps against the tiny swell of Harry's bum, and he lifts it up, brings it down fast, as sharp and stinging as he can manage with Harry laid flat against his belly. Harry's hips jerk, thrusting his cock into the crease where Louis's leg meets his body. It feels good, so good. "One for every year."

"And one to grow on," Harry says, and he lifts himself up enough to kiss Louis deeply, sliding his lips over Louis's until he's at a good angle to nip at his lower lip playfully. 

"Got a lot of birthdays to catch up on," Louis murmurs, and he brings his hand down one more time.

"Twelve," Harry says, immediately, kissing Louis again. "But Lou - please - _please_." He rolls his cock down against Louis's leg again, deliberately.

"I've got you," Louis says, stroking his hand over the smarting spot on Harry's bum. "We've got ages to catch up on birthday spankings, properly, with you across my lap and everything."

Harry shudders at the thought, a delicious thrill of anticipation coiling up through him. "Tomorrow," he says, kissing his way along Louis's jaw until he can suck Louis's earlobe into his mouth and worry at it with his teeth. "We can start tomorrow."

"And do it the next day, and the next day, and the next," Louis promises, and then he works a hand between the two of them and wraps it around Harry's cock, swiping it up through Harry's precome - Harry's always so wet for Louis - and using that to slick his grip on Harry's cock. He jerks Harry off, confident and smooth, and Harry would compare this to how it used to be, back when he and Louis were learning everything on each other, but he can't think that far back, not now, not with Louis burying his face into the crook of Harry's neck and biting down, _hard_ , and then soothing the bite with kittenish swipes of his tongue. "Forever," he murmurs, against Harry's skin, and Harry's hips jerk and he's spilling into Louis's palm. 

Harry flops over onto his side, nuzzling up against Louis. He should be embarrassed, probably, but he isn't. He can't stop smiling, is the thing. "Haven't come that quick since I was a teenager," he tells Louis.

"I sincerely doubt that's the case," Louis says, primly, poking Harry's side hard until Harry laughs, openmouthed against Louis's salty skin, because Louis is absolutely correct in that assumption. 

"Whatever," he says, and rolls over to kiss Louis thoroughly. "Remember when we were young enough that we could do that more than once in one night, though?"

Louis huffs a little laugh, which rumbles low through his chest, and strokes his hand against Harry's hip. "Mind over matter," he says. "Think enough like a teenager and maybe we can get back to a point where we can come, like, three times in one night again."

"Got a while to practice, at least," Harry says, only a little doubtfully.

"As long as you want," Louis says, like it's a promise. He reaches over to shut off the light and then curls up at Harry's side. "Just say the word."

+++

It feels kind of like they never broke up, is the thing. Harry wakes up to the sun streaming into his room and Louis curled up tight against his side, one little hand splayed wide on Harry's stomach, face tucked into Harry's neck. Harry can't help but kiss Louis awake, thoroughly, and they wank off together, cocks lined up with Harry's hand wrapped around the both of them and Louis's hand wrapped around Harry's, panting into each other's mouths until they come, Louis first, Harry second.

Harry makes them breakfast – fried eggs and beans on toast – wearing just his boxers, and Louis steals Harry's robe and slides his glasses on and reads Harry the funniest headlines from the newspaper app on his phone, legs swinging against the bars of his chair as he does so.

Later that day, when Harry is in the garden, thinning out his carrots on his hands and knees, Louis comes swinging through the gate in the fence, a glass of water in hand. "Hydrate yourself, you great lump," he says, but he lets his fingers brush against Harry's when he passes over the glass, and he sits down cross-legged on a relatively clean rock while Harry drinks the water. 

"Love you, cheers," Harry says. He doesn't realise what he says until he hears the sharp intake of Louis's breath, and he reassesses – he'd said it in a platonic way, but he means it in every way. He looks up at Louis, earnestly. "I do. Still. Again." 

"No, me too," Louis says, a smile unfurling across his face as he leans forward to rest a hand against Harry's leg. "Love of my life, remember?" 

"How could I forget?" Harry says, and the smile stupidly at each other for a long moment before Harry grins and turns back to his water. He hands the glass back to Louis once it's drained. 

Louis takes it distractedly. "Feels like proper neighbours," he says, looking over the garden, and the open gate, and his yard through the gap. "Being like this."

"We are proper neighbours, Lou," Harry says, but he knows what Louis means. "It feels like it's always been like this."

Louis smiles softly up at Harry. "I mean, it kind of has," he says. "We just took a bit of a break to grow up a little."

"Are we really doing this, then?" Harry asks. He sits up properly, leans against Louis's leg a little. "Going back to how it was."

"I want to," Louis says, seriously. "Or like – back to something even better."

"What about London?" Harry asks. It's not like he couldn't move, if he had to; he hasn't got a set space he has to live when he's not on the job, but – his mum depends on him when she's in southern France every summer. 

Louis shrugs. "We'll figure it out," he says, and he pats Harry's leg heavily and pushes himself up, wincing a little. "Think I'm getting too old to sit on the ground like that," he says, stretching a little until his back pops. 

"Mind over matter," Harry reminds him, grinning, and Louis grins back. 

"Good," he says, simply. "You're figuring it out."

+++

In the end, Harry and Louis never get next-door houses with one massive backyard between the two of them like Harry dreamed about as a kid. As it turns out, one house is plenty big enough for the two of them and all their pets and kids.

Harry even gets to keep his garden and his darkroom.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked my first forays into h/l! :-SS
> 
> [tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com) | [reblog](http://dulosis.tumblr.com/post/75342662970/when-3-sentences-becomes-5k-title-anything)


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